


I Wish I Was Your Boy

by Teddy1008, winterironspiderling



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, BDSM, Bottom Peter Parker, College Student Peter Parker, Daddy Kink, Dom Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sub Peter Parker, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26674342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teddy1008/pseuds/Teddy1008, https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterironspiderling/pseuds/winterironspiderling
Summary: Peter applies for an internship at Stark Industries during his first year of college. Less than ideal circumstances in the workplace lead to him staying after hours to complete his work. Unfortunately, or fortunately, for Peter, Tony is the one to catch him breaking the rules.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 192
Kudos: 573





	1. Orientation

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the story. We hope you'll enjoy it. xx
> 
> Jae's [Tumblr](https://estelsberry.tumblr.com)  
> IronSpiderling's [Tumblr](https://winterironspiderling.tumblr.com)

Peter felt both stressed and excited when he learned that first year students in his program at NYU had the option of substituting an internship for coursework. He was excited because an internship would mean real hands-on experience in his field and less tedious schoolwork and lectures to endure. The stress came from him knowing that there was only one place he really wanted to intern—Stark Industries. It was a stretch for him to think that his application would even be considered, and to think of it being accepted? Impossible. It was the company of his dreams, though, and regardless of his chances, Peter wanted to try, so as soon as the freshman orientation was over, Peter left campus and returned home to his trusty desktop computer.

* * *

The application process was _long_ , to say the least. He attached his resume, answered a few generic questions about himself, and submitted the whole thing before he could back out of it. And that was it. All he could do now was wait and hope, although he was pretty sure he didn’t even stand a chance; everyone knew only the best of the best were chosen for a Stark Industries internship.

* * *

Peter was getting antsy when most of his fellow students had heard back from the companies they had applied to and he hadn’t. He knew it had been foolish to apply to only one company. It was a gamble. He hadn’t had the heart to apply anywhere else, though. It was working for the legend Tony Stark himself, or bust. He would’ve rather done any coursework required than pretend he respected any other company in New York City enough to wear their ID badge.

Peter had to admit that he really wasn’t expecting anything after he sent in his application—not even an automatic email thanking him, but then one day—one highly unexpected day where the weather was bad enough to dampen Peter's mood entirely with all its rain and dreariness—Peter received an email. From Stark Industries. And as far as Peter knew, a company as big and important as SI wouldn't take the time to email rejections. Which meant...

“No way,” he breathed.

“No freaking way!”

Peter couldn’t believe it. He pored over the email dozens of times, trying to make his brain soak up the information. It was difficult when he was so excited.

He was to start on Monday, which left him less than a week to get some appropriate clothes to wear. Of course, there was a dress code and several other little rules that he would have to memorize and abide by to make sure he did a good job.

It was okay, though, Peter, Ned, and MJ made a day out of it, hitting up all the thrift stores in the area to make sure he had something decent for his first day.

* * *

The night before his first day, he didn't sleep well at all. He was too excited and nervous, thinking of everything he'd be doing and accomplishing now. God, he really hoped he wouldn't screw up; he couldn't imagine being let go within a few hours of working. Was that even a thing? He finally fell asleep around two in the morning, exhausted by his own mind.

Peter wasn’t well rested when he made the trek to Stark Industries, but his energy was renewed when he walked into the building through the spotless glass doors. He spoke with the receptionist, proved his identity, went through a quick scanning procedure, and then he was in the elevator and on his way up.

Peter was sort of sick of the whole orientation thing since his entire first week of classes had been nothing but intros to the syllabuses, but he was willing to go through another one if it meant he got this amazing opportunity. He couldn’t help but wonder if Tony Stark would make an appearance, say a few words, check out the new meat, but it was probably below his pay grade. Still, Peter hoped.

Finding his way into the meeting room for orientation wasn't difficult at all; there were multiple helpful signs stuck on the walls. Peter joined the group of interns that had already arrived, shyly making himself mingle a bit. He didn't want to be known as the quiet kid who lounged in the background. A few minutes passed and Peter was debating whether to use the restroom or not when the door opened yet again and someone stepped in. The noise in the room died down immediately, and the brief silence was quickly followed by excited whispers, and Peter jerked his head up, eager to see who it was. He was a bit (very) disappointed to find that it was, in fact, _not_ Tony Stark.

“Welcome everybody. I’m Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries.” She paused and looked around the room with a small smile before continuing. “You should all be proud of yourselves for making it this far. Our procedure for hiring interns is rigorous, as you know from filling out the applications. We only accept the best of the best, and that’s you. So, congratulations.”

Peter listened to the rest of her introduction politely, pleased at the reminder that he had actually made it. With everything Miss Potts was saying, it made sense that she came down to orientate everybody even though she was the CEO and probably super busy. Interns were serious business at Stark Industries. Peter wanted nothing more than to do a good job and live up to the standards set for him. He couldn’t wait to get started.

Miss Potts continued on, scanning the room with a knowing look on her face. “I’m sure you are all very eager to get started. Rest assured, you will. Orientation will help you navigate our company and, I hope, give you an introduction into something worthwhile. I _have_ asked Mr. Stark to join us all here today to greet our new batch of interns, but we’ll have to wait and see if he actually holds to his promise.”

There was a murmur of laughter from the group and Peter smiled, though he hadn’t been aware that that was a joke. Surely Mr. Stark was a busy person? Not that he was complaining; he definitely wanted to see the man in person. It still felt crazy that he was a part of this group now.

As they toured the building and its various floors, Peter paid attention to every department and its specialty. The group learned about which elevators were to be used when, and how to document their hours, who their superiors were, everything. It was a lot of information to handle at once, but Peter willed himself to focus. All the while, his hopes were way up. Mr. Stark might actually be in his vicinity. They might actually be in the same room together. Peter hoped he could maintain composure if it happened; he definitely didn't want to look incompetent in front of the man. First impressions were important, and Peter was determined to give the best one possible.

As they neared the end of the tour, Peter was convinced that, as Miss Potts had implied, Mr. Stark wasn’t actually going to show up. He felt stupid for getting his hopes up now; hell, he wasn’t even sure why he was so disappointed. But there was no way he’d catch a glimpse of the man now, not when it seemed like the opportunity was lost with each passing minute.

The group returned to the board room where the orientation had started, and where there were now assorted refreshments available for everybody. Peter wanted to descend on the snack table, but he didn’t want to be the first one there and look greedy. Instead he hung around the periphery of the room and waited until a few other interns picked through the options before taking his turn. He filled his plate—full but not overflowing—and headed back to the table to sit down and enjoy. It wasn’t often he got to eat that much food, let alone good quality food.

Listening to a few of the interns chatting and joining in here and there, Peter ate, all the while keeping an eye on the door. He was in the middle of laughing at a story when he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye and—oh, shit. Peter watched as Miss Potts stood up and made her way over to the man, standing there in a crisp suit and a pair of orange-tinted sunglasses. She exchanged a few stern words with him, and he rolled his eyes, grinning.

Peter had to catch himself before he choked on his own spit or the huge bite of chicken club he’d just taken. He swallowed painfully, and then he had to remind himself to close his mouth, but it was hard for jaws not to hit the floor in Tony Stark’s presence. Peter noticed that others were having the same reaction as him. He rolled his eyes discreetly—he doubted they even knew anything about his idol. It didn’t help, either, that the man was looking classy as ever. His casual confidence and air of ease made Peter’s cheeks burn. He wished he could carry himself like Mr. Stark. He was debating on whether to get up and introduce himself or thank the man for the opportunity, but he didn’t want to be annoying or clingy.

Plus, he wasn’t even sure whether that was proper internship etiquette. What if Mr. Stark thought he was unprofessional and _weird_ for even doing such a thing? He was the big boss; there was no way he was going to entertain Peter by actually holding a conversation with him. God, as stupid as it sounded, Peter _really_ wanted to hear Mr. Stark’s voice. He’d already heard it before on television, but he was pretty sure it would sound even better in person. _Please do a speech. Please do a speech._

Peter’s heart started racing when Miss Potts and Mr. Stark started walking from the doorway of the board room to the head of the table. “I’m sure you all know who this is although he doesn’t show his face around here much,” Miss Potts spoke. “Tony?”

Peter leaned forward in his seat. This was it. Finally.

“Welcome to Stark Industries,” Tony said flippantly to the group, and then to Miss Potts, “Can I go now?”

It wasn’t the speech he’d hoped for, but it was enough. Peter smirked when he saw Miss Potts give Tony a displeased expression. There was nothing she could do anyway because his question to her had been rhetorical. He was already on his way out.

Peter stared at Tony’s back while he walked across the room. The man was so confident and stylish and smart, and he didn’t even have to say anything for the people around him to know it was true. Peter’s stomach flipped when Tony turned around to give one last look around the room. He had been caught staring. Even though Tony’s glasses were tinted, Peter could see his eyes. He swore he saw the man wink before turning back around and leaving the room for good.

Peter took a moment to recover, and then he turned his attention back to his plate of food. It was quite good—not that he expected anything less from Stark Industries.

His fellow interns chatted among themselves for a while longer, and Miss Potts fielded questions from some of the more inquisitive of the group. Initially, Peter had had a few questions himself, but they'd been given a welcome package upon their arrival, and he found a lot of the answers in it. He was pleased that he'd noticed that, or he would've made a fool of himself in front of Miss Potts.

After the discussion trickled out, they were on the move again. Apparently she didn't like resting for very long. Always on the go. He could respect that. Their group was destined for the Research and Development Department which Peter was thrilled about. He knew he would get the most valuable experience from there since it would be mostly hands-on work. They all filed into the elevator yet again to make their way up to the laboratories, and then Miss Potts was handing them off to the department head and making a discrete escape.

"I'm Rocket," a short man declared. "I'm the department head around these parts. Got it?"

Peter and a few others nodded. Rocket was small, but somehow very imposing. His voice commanded attention as well. Peter was slightly intimidated, but he tried not to show it too obviously. 

"This here"—Rocket gestured to the tall, slender man at his side—"is Groot."

Peter tried not to let his expression change, but he couldn't help but think about how ridiculous their names were. He'd never heard of anybody being named Rocket or Groot before.

"He's my assistant," Rocket added. "You wanna talk to me? You can go through him first. I don't wanna be bothered unless it's life or death, and maybe not even then."

Peter huffed. The guy was two minutes in and already not making a very good impression. He was kind of a jerk.

"Anyway, it's your first day, so I'll go a little easy on ya. Let's go see the labs. Don't touch anything. Or else."

Peter and his new sort-of acquaintances followed Rocket and Groot, excited to finally get to the part of the tour they were most excited for. Peter didn't know his colleagues super well, but he knew they at least enjoyed science, so he could guess that they were just as excited as he was to get started. It turned out that going to see the labs meant looking at them through locked doors and then moving past them to an office space filled with cubicles.

An hour and a half later, and Peter was no closer to getting his hands on any Stark tech, unless using his ID badge to get through doors and into elevators counted. So far, he'd fetched some coffee for Rocket, made photocopies for a man called Dr. Banner, and helped a delivery person with a heavy looking package.

"Dude," Peter muttered to the guy next to him. "This is not what I signed up for. I thought we were actually gonna, you know, do stuff."

"Tell me about it," the guy said. "Maybe tomorrow."

Peter nodded. He really hoped so, because if he had started interning at the company of his dreams just to be an errand boy fetching coffee and papers, then he was going to—well, he didn't know exactly what he would do, but he wasn't going to be happy. That was for sure.

At the end of the day, Peter managed to catch Groot as the man was leaving. Groot, though he seemed nicer than Rocket, was still definitely not impressed with him for speaking to him; he made that much clear with a rather noticeable roll of his eyes. When Peter asked what they would be doing tomorrow, and if they would actually get to work in any of the labs, the man just laughed at him for a good ten seconds before leaving. He took that as a no. Still, Peter didn't lose hope that they would be doing things more worthwhile.

The next day was the same, fetching coffee and running small errands, and eventually, a week passed and still, none of the interns had done anything _significant_. Enough was enough. Peter would take matters into his own hands.

Peter gave his supervisor one last chance to give him the internship experience Miss Potts had promised him. He bypassed Groot and tracked Rocket himself down in his office.

"Can I talk to you?" Peter asked, standing in the doorway.

"What do you want, kid? Can't you see I'm busy? I'm on break." Rocket gestured to the coffee and pastry in front of him.

Peter knew from a week's worth of experience that Rocket liked to take several coffee breaks (and breaks in general) a day. Apparently the caffeine was keeping him up at night because he had dark circles around his eyes, and Peter knew it wasn't from working too much because he hadn't seen him work at all.

"I—" Peter started.

"Did Groot let you in here? Because I remember telling him no visitors."

"No, but only you can answer my question," Peter insisted.

"Fine," Rocket sighed. "What is it. Geez. Can't get any peace and quiet around here."

Peter clenched his fist at his side. He tried to be polite when he spoke. "I've been here for a week, sir, and I really hoped we would get into the labs. You know, me and the other interns. Miss Potts said that we would get hands-on experience. Help design some stuff."

Rocket looked at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Well, Miss Potts ain't here, is she?"

Peter frowned. Was that a rhetorical question?

"I'm in charge of R&D, not the redhead," Rocket said while he leaned forward and snatched his cup off the desk. "And none of you newbies are getting anywhere near my shit. End of discussion. You get the coffee, you fetch the papers, and I'll give you a fair recommendation. What more do you want, kid? I thought you'd be happy you'd get to slack off for a semester."

"I'm smart," Peter urged. "I can do the work. I can prove it. Please, just give me a chance."

"You're outta luck, and time." Rocket squinted at Peter's name tag. "Peter," he tacked on. As if he was trying to be personable. "It's for your own good. You don't want to get sued for breaking something, do you? Didn't think so," he said without waiting for Peter to answer. "Now scram."

And Peter really couldn't do anything else but do exactly as he was told. Seething with both disappointment and frustration, he marched out of the office. This was _not_ how he'd imagined Stark Industries to run. Somehow, he'd thought that Mr. Stark would play some sort of big role, but he hadn't seen the man since orientation day in which he'd spoken the bare minimum. And Rocket, oh God, Rocket. He was a whole other problem. Peter despised him; he didn't even know _how_ he'd gotten the job. There was no way Mr. Stark knew about this, or Miss Potts. He was pretty sure he'd never see Rocket again if he tattled on him, as childish as that sounded. Peter almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of his thoughts. Tell on Rocket! To Miss Potts, or even Mr. Stark! He was an intern—no, he was basically the coffee boy around here—and he had to remember that first, his opinion probably didn't matter, and second, who would take his word over the head of R&D? And with that, Peter continued on with the day's work—which, of course, consisted of time consuming and boring tasks.

The next time Peter looked up, he realized that it was past five already, which meant that the day was over for him. How had he not noticed the other interns getting ready to leave? Peter sighed. He didn't want to just... leave and then start another similar day tomorrow.

A couple of fellow employees walked past him, offering either nods or muttered farewells. A few others gave him questioning glances as if to say, "Are you crazy? Why aren't you getting the hell out of here?" Peter just shrugged and waved them away. He didn't have a good answer to the question. He just didn't feel like going home when he felt like he'd accomplished nothing, learned nothing. The week had been so miserable that the prospect of leaving didn't seem that great. Why get excited to go home when he would inevitably have to come back to this, this disappointment?

After ten minutes of consideration, the whole floor was cleared out, and Peter was left on his own. Rocket had been one of the first ones to be gone which didn't surprise Peter, but actually, it showed how ridiculous the man's reasons for not letting interns do any real work were. If Rocket was so concerned with the integrity of his projects and worried that Peter would ruin them, why didn't he make sure everyone left before he did and secure the labs? Why did he barely work on anything except demolishing snacks? Obviously it was a power trip and not that there was actually a rule against interns doing real work, and based of what Miss Potts had said during orientation, this was not normal procedure. Rocket was just territorial and difficult, and everyone accepted it—probably because they were getting paid amazing wages and didn't have to actually do any work. Peter didn't like it, though. He didn't like that this was all going on under Mr. Stark's nose. He liked to imagine if the man knew, he wouldn't be too happy about it. He'd fix things. Peter was realistic enough to know he wasn't going to be the whistleblower, but he also knew that he was tired of the way things were.

He waited another half hour, fiddling around in the break room, tidying things up, just so he'd have a valid excuse for not having left if he was caught, but nobody came. He was alone. Peter ran his fingers along the edges of his ID badge while he considered his next moves. He could take a quick look around the lab, read over the reports, examine whatever prototypes were being created, and be gone. He wouldn't touch anything or do anything that could actually get him into trouble. It was purely observation. He could take his observations and apply them to the theory he was learning about at school, and then the internship would be worth something. It was the perfect plan.

Peter left the break room and walked through the empty office, double and triple checking that every cubicle and work partition was empty, and then he reached the doors of the main lab. He held up his ID badge to the scanner, praying it wouldn't sound an alarm and bring down security on him. To his relief, the panel glowed green, and he was in.

When he first stepped in, Peter froze for a few moments. It was _big_ and somehow, everything he could see in the lab seemed much more complicated than he could have ever imagined. Along with the futuristic computers and holoscreens, there were a few whiteboards on wheels floating around the room. He guessed some people liked to keep it old school. He could respect it.

He felt a brief flash of guilt when he wondered if there was something in there that no one was supposed to know about; maybe that was why they weren't allowed in. He pushed the feeling away since he wouldn't even be having to do this in secrecy at all if it weren’t for Rocket. With that in mind, he approached the nearest table. A few documents were scattered across the surface. Peter skimmed them but didn't find anything interesting enough to keep his attention, so he moved on. He figured any physical projects were locked away, but the staff wasn’t as careful with their paperwork.

Peter examined all the reports he could find. The most interesting was probably the plans for a better, more renewable energy source that could be implemented city-wide. That was wicked. Some of the information on the copy he had was redacted. Peter felt smug at that—Rocket thought he was so special as the head of R&D, but even the lab he fought so hard to protect was full of papers that could only be partially read since the researchers and developers didn’t have full clearance over the information. The thought of how special the work Mr. Stark was doing sent a shiver up his spine. If he felt this way about blueprints, designs, and reports that weren’t even full described, he couldn’t even imagine being at the top. Knowing all the secrets. Mr. Stark probably had thousands more ideas where this came from.

Peter controlled himself before he got totally lost in his enjoyment. He didn’t want to get caught, obviously, and he definitely didn’t want to get locked in the building and have to sleep there, and then be caught anyway. Staying less than an hour extra was believable and easy enough to explain, but getting caught with his nose in a lab report at midnight wasn’t exactly something he could get out of. He took one last look around, and made himself go home.

* * *

When Peter showed up for his scheduled shift the next day, he felt a lot better about his position. Fetching coffee didn’t seem so monotonous now that he’d had a taste of what was going on behind closed doors. He hadn’t seen a ton, but he’d been able to understand the parts of the text that weren’t redacted or altered. He spent the day wondering what else he was missing and what else he could find in the lab if he actually had a plan and used his time wisely. He waited for any indication that someone knew what he’d been up to, but nobody seemed aware. That was one more justification repeating his one-man tour of the lab.

Another justification for staying behind against Rocket’s wishes was that it was what he should’ve been doing during the day anyway. If it weren’t for Rocket and his guard dog, all the interns would be involved in the lab work, and there wouldn’t be any “rules” to break.

The lab looked almost exactly like it had the day before, but this time the whiteboard wasn’t wiped clean, and there were a few equations written out on it. Peter wondered if it was procedure to wipe the boards at the end of the day as a security measure, or if it was just coincidental that the equations hadn’t been there the day before. He didn’t think it made sense to wipe the boards if security was so lax that he was able to stay late two days in a row without even being questioned.

Peter tried not to think about Good Will Hunting while he solved the equation on the board, but it was hard not to. Had his superiors seriously not been able to solve something so simple? It was embarrassing.

He hesitated in front of the board while he deliberated erasing it, but pride got the best of him. If he got caught leaving behind solutions, at least he could use that to buy his way out of trouble. He doubted it would come to that, though. Some up and comer scientists probably wouldn’t have any problem taking credit for the solution so they could get ahead.

Peter frowned at the board and then decided he better get out of there.

* * *

With the same ease as he justified turning one night of disobedience into two nights, Peter turned two nights into three, and then four. By Thursday, Peter was convinced that he'd toured the entirety of the lab and solved as many equations as he could. He’d even resorted to tidying up some of the unlocked drawers.

He was starting to get bored of working with his colleagues’ scraps, though. He wanted something real to do. Peter was considering calling it a night when he caught sight of a new stack of papers on one of the desks in the back of the room. Somehow, he knew that this would be worth his time. Something challenging and intriguing and better than anonymously solving random equations or digging through garbage like a raccoon looking for information he could use to his advantage in school. He approached the stack, noting that they weren’t copies of things he’d already seen, and more importantly, the information on them wasn’t hidden behind black lines and codewords.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Peter whipped his head around. He took a second to respond while his heart restarted and while his brain processed who the words belonged to.

"Oh my God. Mr. Stark. You scared me. I was just um, uhh, you know..."

Peter knew he could kiss the internship goodbye. He was in so much trouble. He could barely look Tony in the eye—not only because of how immaculate he looked in yet another designer suit, but also because the man's expression was serious. If Tony Stark came down to the lab personally to berate him for disobeying rules, then he must've really crossed a line. He was beyond humiliated. He might even be in legal trouble depending on how important the documents he’d been snooping in were.

"No, I _don't_ know," Tony responded.

"I was doing work," Peter admitted in a small voice.

"It's after 6. I don't know if you know this, but everyone else has gone home for the day."

Peter stared, mouth going dry. He was acutely aware of the fact that he'd fucked up, and when he opened his mouth, he wasn't entirely sure of what he was saying.

"Oh, um, yeah! Wow! I didn't... I lost track of time."

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow, looking both unimpressed and... amused? "And I suppose you lost track of yourself as well as the time? I didn't know Rocket left the interns here alone."

"He doesn't, really," Peter admitted.

He didn't want to implicate himself, but he also knew that exposing Rocket for his subpar supervising skills wouldn't get him anywhere. Even if Mr. Stark was displeased with Rocket, the man had seniority and a lot more leeway than a brand-new intern. Peter knew, too, that most higher-ups hated insubordination no matter who it was against or why. Mr. Stark would never take his side. It left him at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? The truth seemed like the best way to go. _Time to kiss the internship goodbye,_ he thought.

"Look, Mr. Stark. I can explain," Peter sighed, "or, if you just wanna fire me without hearing what I have to say...I don't know."

Peter looked at his feet while he waited for Mr. Stark to speak.

"Look at me, kid."

Peter obeyed immediately..

"I want to hear your explanation," Mr. Stark decided. "Two sentences or less. Go."

Peter's mouth dropped open in surprise because whoa, he hadn't actually expected Mr. Stark to even _consider_ listening to his side of the story. Interesting.

"Um." He had to stop and clear his throat, trying to subtly wipe his sweaty hands on his pants. "I... I came down here because Rocket wasn't letting us do anything beside like, fetch coffee and stuff. I was frustrated. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, I know it was—" He had to stop because fuck, Mr. Stark had said two sentences or less. Was there a chance he'd get fired for not following those orders?

"Breathe," Tony instructed.

"Okay." Peter nodded and followed the man's instructions, inhaling slowly. "Yeah."

"Right, well," Tony began. "Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Parker."

"You know my name?"

"Wasn't hard to find out. It is my company, after all. You work for me, and there's the matter of it being on your badge, there."

"Right." Peter blushed. "Cool, yeah. So, am I, like, in trouble, Mr. Stark?"

"I haven't decided yet," Tony admitted. "On one hand, you directly disobeyed your supervisor's rules, but on the other hand, Rocket is kind of a dick. We've had issues with him before."

Peter didn't say anything and waited for the man to continue.

"And. I'm inclined to agree that interns should be doing more—"

"Yes, thank you. I've been trying to—" Peter stopped talking when he noticed Mr. Stark’s irritated expression.

"Don't interrupt me."

"Sorry."

"Anyway," Tony continued.

"I do need an assistant up in the penthouse. My personal labs, important stuff. You can start tomorrow."

"What?" Peter blurted. "I-I don't understand."

"You think you're good for more than coffee and photocopies, and I'm saying I believe you. Here's your chance to prove yourself."

Peter stared, mind running at a million miles per second. What the hell was happening? This... this was _not_ what he'd expected. But he wasn't about to go and disagree with Mr. Stark now, not after he was clearly choosing not to fire him. What other choice did he have anyways?

"Yes, Mr. Stark, I will, I promise. Um, what time should I—"

"Normal time will do," Tony interrupted, glancing at his watch. "Or you can come earlier if you really want bonus points. Your choice."

Right. So that meant earlier. Lovely.

"You should probably head home soon if you want to get a decent amount of sleep. Or—and here's the better option—you can be like me and function off of no sleep at all. Don't you wanna be just like me?" There was a flash of amusement in Tony's eyes. Peter was pretty sure the man was joking around, but he really had only _just_ met him and didn't want to risk getting on his nerves, so he just gave a small, timid smile.

"Um, I'll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Stark?"

Tony nodded and waved him away, already looking like he was thinking of something else unrelated to Peter. "Get out of here, kid."

Peter scampered out of the lab, hazarding one last look at Tony before escaping to the elevator. He could not believe his luck. Not only was he off the hook for breaking the rules, he was actually being rewarded. Personal lab time with Mr. Stark? As his assistant. Peter didn't think there could be anything better—or worse, when he considered the very real possibility that he could make a complete fool of himself in front of his idol. The entire way home, he found himself wondering if he had dreamed the whole thing, asking himself, _"That happened, right?"_

He was beyond excited to show up bright and early at Stark Tower the next day and take the elevator all the way up to the penthouse. Tony Stark's penthouse. Then again, what if he screwed up? What if he turned out not to be what Tony was looking for? What if the man had actually been joking? And why had Tony chosen him anyway? Was it some sort of test? Did Mr. Stark somehow know about the equations he'd solved for the team?

Peter could barely sleep the entire night; he tossed and turned, imagining possible scenarios in his head and working himself up. He replayed the conversation in his head over and over again, trying to dissect and analyze it in order to shed some light on what the fuck he was supposed to do. Should he wear the same clothes he normally wore? Should he arrive early and try to impress Tony like the man had hinted he should do? Right on time? Should he be polite and bring the man a coffee? Eventually the moonlight shining through his window turned into sunlight, and Peter had no choice but to get up and face the day. His first day working with Tony Stark.

" _This is either going to be really awesome or really bad."_


	2. Trial Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has his first day working for Tony in his personal labs...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, lovelies. We hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
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Peter spent at least ten minutes staring at his reflection, trying to figure out whether he looked presentable enough. He didn't even want to think about how humiliated he would be if Mr. Stark hinted, or even pointed out, that he looked like a mess. He didn't think he did, but still... he was only an intern, while Mr. Stark was at the top of the food chain. Deciding that hovering would only cause him to be late, he grabbed his bag and left his apartment.

* * *

He was rather pleased that he arrived at Stark Industries about half an hour early; he wanted to show Mr. Stark that he could actually be good and punctual since the man had caught him creeping around in his lab. This was, in a way, his chance for redemption.

Peter wasn’t sure how exactly to go about getting up to the penthouse via his usual elevator since it didn’t even have that button as an option, so he decided to check in with one of the receptionists.

“Hi, how can I help you?” The woman asked brightly.

Peter noticed her glancing at his ID badge. She was probably confused as to why he was bothering her when he’d been going straight up to the R&D floor for the past couple of weeks without issue.

“Um, Mr. Stark. He told me to go up to the penthouse, but I don’t exactly...Do you know which elevator I should take?”

Peter blushed, wondering if she was going to scoff at him or accuse him of telling a ridiculous joke—as if someone like him could ever speak to Tony Stark, let alone go up to his place—but to his surprise, she smiled and got to helping him.

“Hold up your badge to the scanner,” she instructed.

Peter did as he was told and awkwardly fumbled his badge. The scanner beeped, and the woman looked at her computer with a serious expression before turning back to him.

“You have clearance for that floor,” she explained. “Mr. Stark must have added you to his protocols, go ahead to any elevator you like, and Jarvis will take over from there.”

Peter was caught on the fact that she said he could choose any elevator he liked since certain ones were for certain floors and certain directions since there was so much traffic in the building, but then he realized he had another question.

“Jarvis?” Peter asked in confusion. 

“You’ll see.” She smiled knowingly. 

Peter nodded, although he was still confused, and followed the receptionist’s instructions.

When he boarded the elevator, it was luckily empty since most people arrived right on time, and he was early.

Peter looked around while the elevator doors closed him in. As he expected, when he looked at the buttons available, only floors from one to twenty were listed. Great, so the receptionist had been messing with him, and he was on his way up to a floor he had no business being on. He wasn’t going to look stupid and be late. Mr. Stark was going to be pissed.

“Welcome, Mr. Parker,” a voice sounded.

Peter flinched but relaxed immediately once it clicked for him what was going on. He didn’t bother looking around to try and place the voice since he was well aware there wasn’t an actual person in the elevator with him.

“Thank you,” he responded. “You’re Jarvis, I take it?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Cool, so you can override this thing to get me up all the way to Mr. Stark?”

“Indeed,” Jarvis responded.

“How did you know it was me and not someone else?” Peter wondered.

“I scanned you.”

Peter grinned. “So you’re one of Mr. Stark’s AIs, then. You’re not just some random security guard?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Jarvis joked, “but yes, I am an artificial intelligence created by Mr. Stark.”

“Amazing,” Peter marvelled. “I heard he had some, but I never thought I’d get to meet you. This is so cool. How large is your interface? How old are you? What—”

“You’re inquisitive,” Jarvis interrupted, “and you’ve also arrived at the penthouse. Welcome, Mr. Parker.”

The doors opened, and Peter walked into Mr. Stark’s lobby.

“Holy shit,” Peter breathed.

“Uh oh, got a dollar for the swear jar?” Tony greeted him.

Peter giggled like an idiot before controlling himself. “Um, take it off my cheque?”

“So you’re smart and a smartass,” Tony commented. “I suppose that fits. At least you’re early.”

Peter hadn’t even had time to give himself the “don’t be awkward and annoying” speech on the way up since the elevator trip had gone by so quickly. He hadn’t expected Mr. Stark to be _right there_ waiting for him either. Jarvis must have notified the man as soon as he’d begun the journey up. It was nerve wracking to be under-prepared, but no amount of time would have been able to prepare him for this situation. An encounter with Tony Stark, and not just an encounter, but a full on meeting that was planned for, anticipated. Peter tried not to get giddy at the thought of Tony expecting him and knowing he was coming.

_Tony Stark knows my name,_ Peter thought. Never in a million years would he have considered that as a possibility for him.

Peter realized that he still hadn’t answered Tony. But what was he supposed to say? Was there anything he could say in the face of such greatness?

“Yes!” Peter blurted. “Um, I was going to bring you a coffee, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted one, or if you liked it, or, I don’t know, I kinda figured you had your own fancy setup going on. If you want one, I can like, go back down and get you one.”

_So much for not being awkward. Oh well._

“Wow, Rocket really fucked with you, didn’t he? I thought you accepted this offer to get away from being the coffee boy.”

Peter grimaced. He was so embarrassing. Already acting like a stupid simp after five seconds. Who could blame him, though? Tony’s place was immaculate and well-furnished, and the view was incredible. He could only imagine what it looked like at night, and more importantly, Tony himself looked immaculate.

“You look nice,” Peter replied. Totally off topic and it totally didn’t answer the man’s question. Although it had been rhetorical. Did he expect an answer?

Tony crossed his arms, and Peter couldn’t help but track the movement. Oh no, he was already disappointed and annoyed, and he looked so fresh. He wasn’t wearing a suit like usual, but black jeans and a band t-shirt. Looked like Mr. Stark did not play fair at all, especially since he’d just used a swear word when he’d just given Peter heck for doing the same thing.

“I mean, um, sorry.” Peter could feel his heart pounding. “I always think of you as wearing a suit, you know, not that I always think of you, but—” 

_Shut up, Peter. Please, just shut up._

Tony grinned. “Down, boy, take a minute. Breathe.”

Peter exhaled slowly.

“That happen to you a lot?” Tony asked. “The whole nervous rambly deal?” He waved his hands vaguely.

“Sorry,” Peter said. “I’m just nervous. Duh, you said that.” He shook his head before continuing, “I don’t want to let you down. I take it really seriously. Probably too seriously if that’s possible. I don’t want to screw up.”

Tony inclined his head thoughtfully. “I don’t blame you for trembling in the presence of greatness, but I can’t have someone with shaky hands running around my lab. I got a lot of delicate things going on in there.”

Peter rolled his eyes instinctively. “I’m not gonna—”

“Five minutes in and already rolling your eyes? Am I gonna regret this?”

Peter gaped for a moment, then shook his head. “Uh, no… Sir? You won’t, Mr. Stark, I promise.” He couldn’t tell whether the man was serious or joking around; he really hoped it was the latter. “I’ll show you how good I can be, if you just let me use my hands.” And oh, fuck, that… that sounded wrong, but it was too late to fix it now. So he just turned bright red and ducked his head, hoping Tony hadn’t misinterpreted what he’d really meant.

Thankfully, the man just turned around and scanned the room before glancing at him with a nod. “Okay. I know what you can do.” 

Peter perked up at the prospect of having an actual task to complete.

“Follow me,” Tony directed. “I’ll show you the lab, and you can chat with J a bit more.”

Peter trailed Tony eagerly, anticipating the magic that he was about to see. “Amazing. I’ve always wondered what your lab was like.”

For the hundredth time, Peter regretted speaking. He sounded like an obsessed fanboy, which to be fair, was kind of true, but he didn’t want Tony to know that. He could just imagine security being called on him. A headline in the paper about a crazed intern being escorted off Stark’s premises.

“Hmm,” was all Tony commented. After a second, the man added, “Today’s your lucky day then.”

Peter nodded and pressed his lips together to keep from gushing even more. He and Tony passed through the living room to a hallway of what were presumably bedrooms which Peter tried very hard to ignore before they reached yet another hallway, at the end of which was a spiral staircase.

Peter had expected Tony’s place to be huge since he was a billionaire, but being in it was better than he could’ve imagined. The decorations, furniture, and colour schemes that Tony used were simple and muted, which Peter guessed was for functionality more than anything. Tony seemed to like his extravagance when it came to his cars and outfits rather than his penthouse, although Peter amended that simplicity didn’t mean the penthouse wasn’t extravagant. He was sure that the couch in Tony’s living room probably cost more than his life despite being white and objectively plain. Probably not even that comfortable either.

Peter’s efforts not to gush failed because once he and Tony ascended the staircase and reached the floor that held the lab; he might as well have ascended the clouds and reached heaven. He took back everything he had been thinking about Tony not liking extravagance in his home because the lab was the definition of luxury.

“Wow,” Peter breathed. “It’s...amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”

He looked around at the bright, open space. It was filled with gleaming surfaces and cleaner than clean but cluttered unlike the rest of the penthouse. The worktables held an array of tools, wires, building materials, empty and full coffee cups, blueprints, tablets, and things that Peter couldn’t even identify. It was evident that Tony actually used the lab and considered this the real living room of his home.

Peter glanced at Tony and blushed when he saw that the man was already looking at him, gauging his reaction.

“So, you like it?”

“It’s perfect. Just like I expected.”

“It’s not too messy for you?” Tony had a smirk playing at his lips like he didn’t actually care if Peter thought it was messy or not.

“This is how it should look when you’re working.”

Tony chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Peter shrugged. “I would. My entire apartment looks like this when I get invested in a project. I don’t have anybody cleaning at home, either, though.”

“Housekeeping is for everywhere but this room,” Tony said. “Nobody comes in here but me.”

Peter felt a thrill at that comment since it meant that Tony had made an exception for him.

“Wait, I’m not here to clean, am I?” Peter wondered with a frown. 

Tony raised his eyebrows. “What would you do about it if you were?”

Peter didn’t have a good answer for that. “Probably clean, I guess, but that would suck.”

“Hates cleaning. Got it.”

Peter laughed. “Anyway, um, you said you wanted me to do something?”

“See that?” Tony pointed at a table at the back of the room. 

Peter followed Tony’s gesture.

“The engine?”

“Yup,” Tony confirmed. “It’s from a 1932—”

“Ford Model B Roadster.”

“That’s promising,” Tony praised. “You know cars, then.”

Peter grimaced. He didn’t know cars, per se, but he was familiar with Tony’s personal collection. He’d watched the video available on the Stark Industries YouTube page more times than he could count. He decided not to answer.

“Today you can disassemble that and then reassemble it,” Tony instructed. “You do that, then I know you can handle doing what I want you for.”

“How long do I have?” Peter worried his lip. He knew he could do it, but he wasn’t sure he could do it as quickly as Tony wanted.

“To the end of the day,” Tony responded. “If you don’t think you can do it, no skin off my back, I’ll send you back down to R&D.”

“No!” Peter shouted. “I mean, it’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“J?” Tony addressed the room.

“At your service,” Jarvis responded.

“Help the kid.”

“Of course.”

“He’s gonna help me?” Peter asked, delighted. That would definitely make things go more smoothly.

“Part of your training is learning how to work with him and the bots.”

“The bots?” Peter asked.

On cue, a machine labelled Dum-E wheeled toward him and chirped.

“Oh my God. He’s like BB8 from Star Wars,” Peter marvelled. “He’s so cute.”

Tony inclined his head. “Don’t you dare associate him with that atrocity of a trilogy.”

“They’re not that bad,” Peter argued.

Tony waved his hands. “You shouldn’t waste anymore time.”

Peter nodded, feeling silly for nerding out in front of Mr. Stark. Everything he did was embarrassing. 

Tony said a few more words, and then he turned around to leave.

“Wait, you’re not staying?” Peter blurted.

“I’d only distract you, so no.”

That was probably the most accurate thing Peter had ever heard anyone say. “Okay, Mr. Stark, see you later, then. Hopefully. I’ll just, uh, get started.”

Tony’s lips quirked upwards into a small smile for a split second before it disappeared. “Yeah, you better, don’t laze around, kid.” 

Peter had already started his task, so he barely registered Tony’s words, but he managed to give a quick nod at the last second. “No problem, Sir, I won’t.” He stood still and listened to the sounds of Tony leaving—not because he _wanted_ to, of course not. He just didn’t want Tony to hear him sounding like an idiot, talking to himself as he worked; it was a habit of his. When he was sure Tony had left, he turned to look at the ceiling and asked, “Jarvis? Does he really hate the new series?”

“Most certainly, Sir.”

Peter huffed, smiling. “So, uh… what exactly can you do to help me out here? I gotta make sure I do a good job for Mr. Stark.” He really did want to impress him, so that wasn’t a lie. 

“I can start by playing your favourite music. If you wish.”

“Oh, sick. Yeah, um, just play whatever Mr. Stark likes. Please and thank you.”

As promised, Jarvis let Mr. Stark’s playlist loose on Peter. Some of the songs he knew, and others he didn’t, but he got to work nonetheless. The AI completed a scan of the engine for him which indicated to Peter that a few components were missing, namely one piston and a couple of the crankshaft bearings. A couple of other pieces of the engine were in the wrong place entirely—Peter could tell that just by looking.

“Trying to trick me, are you?” Peter muttered. “Not gonna happen.”

He tracked down the missing pieces with Jarvis’ help, and set them aside before he began the disassembly.

By the time lunch rolled around, Peter had the parts of the engine spread across several desks and chairs. He’d had Jarvis categorize them all and record what order he’d removed them in. He’d also been cleaning the parts as he went, knowing that part of the test was probably seeing if he was actually doing the dirty work. The engine would definitely work better if it was cleaned (and if all the pieces were accounted for).

“Remind me to tell Mr. Stark that he lied,” Peter addressed Jarvis.

“Noted. May I ask to what lie are you referring?”

“He told me I wouldn’t have to clean.”

“I never actually said that.”

“Ah!” Peter jumped a foot in the air like a startled cat. “Mr. Stark!”

“Sir is correct, Mr. Parker. Shall I replay the clip?”

Peter frowned. “Already ganging up on me. It’s my first day.”

Tony laughed. “I never said I was going to go easy on you, either. I’m realizing you like to fabricate memories.”

“I do not,” Peter argued. “Ayway, uh, what are you doing here?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Came to see if you were done yet.”

“Take a guess.”

Tony crossed his arms.

Peter scratched his head, cringing when he felt his greasy fingers streak oil across his forehead and on a few strands of hair. “I’m not done yet, Mr. Stark, but I’m close. Reassembly shouldn’t take long.”

“You think you can handle stepping away for a minute, then?”

“Oh, for sure. What do you need? I mean, like, what’s up? Is there something else you wanted me to do?”

Tony smirked. “I want you to come eat lunch with me.”

Peter stared. Oh. He… hadn’t been expecting that. But maybe it was just an internship thing, a formal business sort of thing. Or, shit, maybe it would be an interview. Maybe Mr. Stark wanted to hear just exactly how competent he was for himself. He began to sweat and tried to subtly wipe his hands on his pants.

Mr. Stark laughed, surprising him. “Relax, pal. It’s not anything you’ll have to worry about. Seriously. Just lunch. I figure you could use the break, and I do want to get to know you better if you’ll be working closely with me from now on. All I know so far is that you’re a trouble-maker.”

Oh. So an interview. Peter tried to stay composed and hastily straightened up. “I am not,” he retorted. “I’m just…”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You're…?” Without even giving Peter a chance to respond, he patted him on the back and said, “Let’s go,” before striding towards the door.

And so they were off.

Peter trailed after Mr. Stark, wondering where they were going. He wished he had more information on where exactly they were going, and _why_ exactly they were going. He had a feeling there was something more to this than just… lunch.


	3. Personal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has his first day interning in Mr. Stark's personal labs.

Peter followed Tony out of the lab and back through the labyrinth that was his hallway. He was hungry, and if the food offered at the orientation he’d attended was any indication, he was about to be well fed—in quantity and quality. Not to mention the feast his eyes were about to have sitting in such close proximity to his boss. Unlimited access (as long as he didn’t get caught staring.)

They reached the lobby where Peter had entered a few hours prior and walked even past that to the kitchen. 

Peter paused when he took in the sight of a kitchen table, a breakfast nook, and a fancier dining table just outside of the room. Where were they going to sit? It looked like Tony had enough seating in the penthouse to sit on a different surface every day of the year without repeating.

He made an executive decision and headed for the kitchen table.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Peter froze. “What?”

“Your hands are filthy.” Tony gestured to him. “Wash them before you get fingerprints all over the place.”

Peter looked down at his hands. Oh yeah, the grease. He glanced to the chair he had just been about to pull out from the table. The all white chair and the all white table. Right. That would’ve been bad.

“Oops. Sorry, Mr. Stark. Um, do you want me to do it in this sink, or is there a bathroom?”

“Kitchen sink is fine, kid.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have a bathroom, then?” He hoped Tony would understand it was a joke and not just a stupid question.

“No,” Tony retorted. “Just an outhouse.”

“Yeah, didn’t think you would. This place is practically condemnable.”

Tony ran a hand across his beard. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a big mouth?”

“What? I’m obviously joking. Your place is like the nicest I’ve ever seen which probably isn’t saying much because my apartment’s sort of a dump, so I guess it would be more accurate to say it’s the nicest place even out of the ones I haven’t seen.”

Tony shook his head. “Nice save.”

Peter just flashed him an innocent smile before turning on the faucet, letting the water run over his hands. He scrubbed them with soap and wiped them off before heading back to the table. He found Mr. Stark sitting there, typing away on his phone, and joined him. “What’re we having?” he asked when a few moments of silence passed. 

“Italian,” Tony responded, not looking up from his phone. 

Peter waited patiently for Tony to finish whatever he was doing on his phone.

Finally, he put it away. “I told Happy to get us a bunch of different things. I’m sure there’ll be at least one thing you like.” He raised an eyebrow.

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I love Italian,” he said lightly. Truth be told, the only good quality Italian food he’d had up till now was from the small restaurant across his apartment. He and May went there at least once a month as a treat. He hoped it wouldn’t be too fancy, or he would have no idea what the dishes were. And that would be _embarrassing._

Tony watched him, then said nonchalantly, “So, Mr. Parker.” He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, and laced his fingers together. “You good with following orders?” He fired a look that shot straight through Peter.

Peter’s mouth went dry. “Um. What?”

Tony’s lips twitched, like he was trying to fight off a smile. “Are you good with obedience,” he repeated dryly.

“I d-don’t. I don’t know. Is this about the stuff I’m doing in the lab? Because if this was a test and I was supposed to keep working and not come to lunch, I’m really sorry.”

Tony seemed to have lost the battle of keeping a smile off his face because now he was grinning. 

“Did I not do something you said to do?” Peter tried again since Tony wasn’t answering him. “Like did I forget something, or—”

“Down, boy. Lunch isn’t a test, and from what Jarvis tells me, you’re right on track with the little project I gave you.”

Peter exhaled in a rush. “Okay, thank God. I seriously don’t want to screw up, Mr. Stark, so if I do something wrong, you gotta tell me, then I can fix it.” 

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Cool, so um, what was the question again? Am I good at following orders?”

Peter was disappointed that he didn’t get an answer since the food arrived and interrupted their conversation, but on the bright side, he had time to gather himself. Tony had gone from zero to one hundred—from ignoring him to grilling him with suggestive questions and unleashing the full force of his beautiful face—and he needed to concentrate on using his mouth to eat with instead of spouting nonsense at his boss.

Everything that Happy put on the table smelled exquisite, and Peter could tell that this food was definitely not from the restaurant across from his place. He would’ve bet money that it had been flown in directly from Italy.

Peter sat back in his chair, trying to resist lunging for the delicious food in front of him and filling up his plate to the ceiling. He didn’t want to be rude since he was a guest, and he didn’t want to risk Tony never inviting him to lunch again.

His fingers twitched in his lap as he watched Tony grab his portion of food.

“What are you waiting for?” Tony asked.

Peter hated and loved that everything Tony said to him sounded like a challenge. Something laced with a different meaning. 

“Oh, um, is it okay if I just grab whatever?”

Tony licked his lips, and Peter felt like he’d said the right thing for once.

“How about I pick?” Tony suggested. “You try what I give you.”

Peter couldn’t see anything wrong with that. “For sure. Thank you. I mean, you’re probably an expert on fine cuisine, so I bet you’ll pick the best stuff. Um, so yeah. If you want to pick.”

Peter was enraptured while he watched Tony fix him a plate. He avoided the basic spaghetti and meatballs that Peter had been dreaming of dumping onto his plate in its entirety and went for the dishes that seemed a little more complicated and refined. Peter wasn’t quite sure if the seafood on his plate was a clam or an oyster, or something else. 

Peter had agreed to this, so he wanted to try it. Tony was observing him as if waiting for him to complain or ask questions. Peter was just grateful to have food in front of him, not to mention food purchased by Tony Stark, eaten with Tony Stark, in Tony Stark’s kitchen. He probably would’ve licked whatever Tony gave him off the floor and thanked the man for it.

“Wow,” Peter breathed, closing his eyes. It was probably the best thing he’d ever tasted. “So good. Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he added. “Seriously.”

“You’re welcome.”

Peter smiled. “Good thing you invited me too because I totally forgot to bring lunch.”

“I figured since you showed up with nothing but the clothes on your back.”

“Right.”

“Is forgetting to eat something you do a lot?”

“Um.” Technically it was less forgetting and more not having any food to bring. Same thing. “Yeah, but don’t worry. I don’t expect this every time or anything like that, if you decide to keep me on up here, that is, and I definitely am not forgetful in the lab.”

Tony didn’t say anything, but he deposited more food on Peter’s plate. 

Peter felt like he was thanking Tony every five seconds, but the man was serving him food almost as fast as he could eat it.

Peter was getting ready to tell Tony politely that he couldn’t possibly eat anymore, but he didn’t have to; Tony was observant and seemed to know exactly when to stop.

“Wow. That was amazing,” Peter sighed. “Did you like it?”

“I wouldn’t have ordered it if I didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, I guess, but I don’t know, you definitely didn’t eat as much as I did. Maybe there was something lacking in the quality that my unrefined palate didn’t pick up on.”

Tony smiled again, and Peter’s stomach flipped at the sight. He loved that he could make Tony smile.

“It was decent,” Tony allowed. “Watching you eat it was better.”

“Oh.” Peter’s entire body heated up at that. He couldn’t see what his face looked like from the outside, but from how hot it felt, he could imagine he was blushing enough to look like a red sun.

Tony smirked at him, perfectly at ease. As if he hadn’t just said something so ridiculously flattering. Unless he’d meant it to be mocking? Peter wasn’t sure. But if Tony hadn’t wanted him to eat so much, he wouldn’t have fed him everything he did. So it had to have been a compliment.

“Well, I guess I’ll go finish up in the lab,” Peter suggested.

“I’ll walk you back.”

Peter felt even more jittery than usual as he followed the man back to the lab. Was this what it was going to be like for him from now on? He was going to have to start meditating to calm down from the nerves and the excitement of being in Tony Stark’s vicinity for prolonged periods of time. 

“Thanks again, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, pausing awkwardly in the doorway. “That was seriously amazing.”

Tony nodded. “About what I asked you earlier…”

Peter stood up straighter. Finally an explanation. 

“About if I can follow orders,” Peter supplied. 

Tony continued, “I mean, I don’t mind the occasional banter here and there as long as you’re a good match for me, and you have been so far. But when we’re working—like, _seriously_ working—I get, ah… into the mood. So. When I tell you to do something, you do it—I say jump, you ask how high.”

Peter had no idea how to begin answering that. Was there even a question?

“It’s straightforward, don’t you think?” Tony added.

Peter nodded mutely. Nothing about what Tony had just said to him was straightforward at all. All he could think about was how he was actually here, in this position, talking with Tony Stark about being his personal lab assistant, working under him and… being ordered around by him. Was it even normal to like the idea of that so much? 

“Um, sorry, what?” Peter felt like his entire brain had been scooped out of his skull. He got so distracted and dazed talking to Tony, imagining what it would be like if he got to keep working there. He hoped Tony didn’t think he was stupid.

Tony shook his head, but he didn’t look angry. “Let’s say I tell you to come back tomorrow, and we’re working _together._ Can you handle doing what I tell you to do?”

“Absolutely, Sir. Of course.” Peter nodded. “I mean, I can’t promise I won’t like ask questions, or anything, and you’ve seen I can kind of make dumb jokes. If that doesn’t bother you too much, then I think I would be amazing for you. Um, in the lab. And if I say something stupid, just feel free to tell me to shut up, or something. Whatever you think is best.”

Tony raised his eyebrows.

_God, do I ever shut the fuck up. Great sell, Peter. Now he’s really going to hire you. What were you thinking? Babbling like a complete—_

“You can leave as soon as you finish your project,” Tony directed, “and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Peter didn’t know what to do with himself. If he’d been alone, he would’ve danced around and maybe cheered, but in front of Tony… He let himself smile and extend his hand out for a handshake.

Tony glanced down at it and bit his lip while he considered taking it.

Peter wondered if Tony would actually reject his hand, but he didn’t. Holding Tony’s hand was now number one on the ranking of the best things that had ever happened to him. He was sure he was shaking his hand for way too long, but he couldn’t make himself stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! We would appreciate you letting us know if you're enjoying the story so far! Things will only get spicier from here, so take your antacids and buckle in!! >:)


	4. Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony become closer.

Peter found himself falling into a steady routine working under Tony. It was actually far less stressful than what he’d been expecting. They had lunches together often now, if not almost every day. It was a strange idea for Peter to get used to at first—the fact that his boss wanted to even waste his time breathing the same air as him, but he came to suspect that Tony liked it just as much as he did. The man certainly seemed to enjoy giving him heaps of food on his plate until he was practically _begging_ for Tony to stop. Not to mention that Tony sent him home at the end of every day with packages upon packages of leftovers from whatever they’d eaten that day. (Apparently Tony liked to order enough food to stock a buffet even though there were only two people eating.)

Working in the lab with Tony was fun too. They would start off easy, but if Peter stole a glance at Tony after about half an hour, he always saw a furrowed brow and the look of intense concentration on his face. So yeah, while they had fun and made corny jokes, Peter definitely knew that he was _not_ to fuck around in the lab. 

“Are you almost done, kid?”

Peter jerked and bumped his head on the table he’d been scooting under to plug the cord into the wall. “Ow.” He scowled, carefully wiggling out. “Are all your tables so low?”

Tony smirked and didn’t acknowledge Peter’s snark. “Took you long enough.”

Peter rubbed the tender spot on his scalp. “Seriously, dude.” He shook his head.

It took Peter a second to realize that Tony was staring at him.

He wouldn’t have necessarily called the expression angry or judgmental. Maybe expectant.

“What?” Peter tried. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do I look like a ‘dude’ to you? Just curious.” Tony crossed his arms.

“N-no. No way. It was just an expression. Sorry. I didn’t mean to like, offend you, or whatever.”

“You didn’t,” Tony replied. “Don’t call me dude again, and we’ll be square.”

“Okay.” Peter held his hands up. “Sorry.”

“You sound real sorry.” Tony smirked.

Peter frowned. Was Mr. Stark seriously going to make a whole thing about being called dude? Touchy much?

“Well, I hit my head pretty hard on your table,” Peter said. 

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Peter couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I’m sorry if I don’t sound more sorry. My head hurts, and really, what’s the big deal about being called dude. I call everyone dude.”

“Maybe you should pay more attention,” Tony suggested. “Then you wouldn’t have hit your head.”

“Maybe you should pay more attention,” Peter grumbled.

Tony inclined his head. He didn’t say a word, but Peter felt like he knew exactly what the man was thinking.

“Um,” Peter squeaked. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. Was he seriously in trouble right now? What the heck had even happened? He had lost track of the conversation entirely.

Tony’s expression immediately turned playful. “I’m messing with you, kid. Relax.”

“Oh.” Peter put a hand to his heart. “Oh my god. You scared me, sir.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony shrugged. “I happen to think the worktables are perfect height. You never know when you might need to bend over them. Adjustments can always be made, though. If you plan on spending a great deal of time under them, that is.”

Peter froze. Was Tony saying what he thought? Bend over the tables… Peter shook his head. Obviously, he had a dirty mind. Tony didn’t mean it like that. Why would he?

“Right,” Peter agreed quickly. “I mean, yeah. You never know, but I’ll do my best not to, you know, bump my head if I need to plug something in, or like if I drop something and need to get it. Probably shouldn’t be dropping things in the first place. Um, and speaking of things I shouldn’t be doing. Definitely won’t be calling you dude again. I—well, what do you like to be called besides Mr. Stark?”

Tony smirked. “Seriously. Relax, Peter. Take a breath.”

Peter did his best to obey.

“Good?” Tony asked.

“I think so.”

“Good. For now, you can call me Mr. Stark. If I want you to call me anything else, I’ll let you know.”

“Not even Tony?” Peter grinned. “Or, your name is actually Anthony, isn’t it?”

Tony licked his lips. “Like I said. Mr. Stark, or nothing.”

Peter shrugged. “Works for me. You can call me whatever you want, I guess. I’m not picky.”

Tony laughed. “Thanks for the tip...dude.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open, and he gave the man an incredulous look, but wisely bit back the retort on his tongue. 

“So you _do_ know when to hold your tongue.” Tony grinned. “Good to know. Anyways, I’m here to tell you to stop working on that. There’s something else you need to do.”

Peter straightened eagerly. “Cool,” he agreed swiftly. His back was aching from wriggling underneath the table for so long; he’d be more than happy to switch tasks. _“Please_ tell me it’ll be something cool.”

“It’s definitely cool,” Tony agreed, tipping his head to the side to indicate that Peter was to follow him. 

Peter obeyed, unable to help but feel like a puppy as he trailed after Tony. He frowned when Tony led him out of the lab but didn’t protest. Maybe it was something that they couldn’t bring all the way over here. He kept quiet until Tony guided him outside of the building entirely with a hand on the small of his back, then handed him a credit card. Peter stared. “What—”

“Go buy us some coffee from the Starbucks a few blocks away.” Tony smiled sweetly.

Peter’s jaw dropped. “That is _not_ cool!”

“It will be once you get your drink.” Tony was enjoying this way too much. 

“Don’t try me, Mr. Stark. I _will_ buy a designer bag with this card,” Peter threatened, only half-joking. 

“Go ahead, kid. As long as you buy the coffee first.”

“You’re kidding, right? This is all just a funny joke? Haha, hilarious. Can we go back inside now?”

“Well. It was a joke at first, but then your reaction got progressively funnier so now it’s not a joke. I’m serious. Coffee. I want a mocha. Thanks, dude.” Tony ruffled his hair, then turned to head back into the building. Over his shoulder, he called, “Don’t make me come after you.”

Peter spluttered, then stomped towards Starbucks. 

Hilarious. 

Tony had specifically brought him up from Rocket’s clutches so that he could do actual _useful_ intern work. Now here he was, just like before, getting sent on a coffee errand.

Peter hadn’t really been planning on purchasing a designer bag with Tony’s credit card, but the indignity of being sent to fetch like a dog tempted Peter to buy a little more than the coffee he’d been tasked with getting. Maybe something like a cake pop, or a scone. Maybe he would even buy himself a reusable mug, or one of those venti-sized cups with the straws. 

On one hand, Peter didn’t want to overstep and abuse the privilege of having Tony Stark’s credit card, but on the other hand, the man had said he could. So what was the answer?

Peter wrestled with the dilemma during the entire walk to Starbucks. Tony said he could buy whatever as long as he got the coffee first, but if he was going to buy something, wouldn’t it be better to buy the coffee last so it didn’t get too cold? But then again, Tony thought he was oh so clever, and knocking him down a peg by reminding him of the clear instructions he’d given would be hilarious. _Sir, I’m sorry your coffee’s cold, but you explicitly said to buy the coffee first. It’s not my fault I went on a two-hour shopping spree afterward._

Peter grinned to himself at the thought. His stomach flipped in direct contradiction to his cheeky plans. Could he actually go through with it? Would Tony fire him on the spot, or would he think it was funny? Peter knew Tony more than he had a few weeks prior, but he still didn’t _know_ him. The man could be hard to read.

He stared at the sleek credit card in his hands. Probably had a credit limit of a billion dollars. Absolutely ridiculous. Absolutely impressive.

“Stop being a coward,” Peter muttered to himself. “Just buy something. If he gets pissed, you can return it. If he thinks it’s funny, you can keep it. Win-win.”

* * *

Peter didn’t feel so courageous anymore when he was riding the elevator back up to the penthouse. In one hand, he had a tray with Mr. Stark’s precious mocha and his frappuccino, plus a bag with a cake pop and two cookies, and a travel mug. That hand held about fifty dollars worth of goodies. In his other hand, he had a bag. From the size and design of it, it didn’t look like much, but the sunglasses inside were worth half his rent.

He strongly considered going back to the shop he’d purchased the shades from and returning them. If Mr. Stark fired him, what the fuck was he going to do? He didn’t technically need the internship to graduate since it was giving him an out from having to take actual classes to earn the credits. It would suck, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Disappointing Mr. Stark would be the real loss for him. 

The elevator opened into Tony’s lobby, and it was too late to turn back. 

Peter was surprised that Tony wasn’t waiting for him right there. He made his way to the lab and walked in with all the confidence he could muster.

“Took you long enough.”

Peter grimaced, waiting for Tony to comment on the abundance of items in his hands. He didn’t. 

Peter set the tray down on the closest table, and Tony didn’t hesitate to pluck his mocha out of the tray. He snatched the bag and one of the cookies inside it and walked back over to the worktable he’d been at when Peter walked in.

“Well?” Peter pressed.

“What?” Tony looked up. 

Peter gestured to the bag that held the sunglasses.

“Oh my god, it’s a bag. Somebody alert the media.”

Peter gestured to the twenty-dollar travel mug he’d selected.

“This game is fun,” Tony teased. “You point at objects, and I have to guess what they are. That’s called a mug. Now it’s my turn.” Tony pointed to the soldering gun he was using. “This is called a tool.”

Peter snorted. What a dick. Okay, fine. Whatever. Tony didn’t seem to care. Peter grabbed the two receipts from his pocket along with the card and set them by Tony’s cup.

Tony eyed him for a moment before glancing at the receipt for the glasses. “Well, let’s see them then.”

Peter tried to keep his hands from shaking while he slid the designer shades on his face, but he wasn’t entirely successful.

“I can return them if you were just kidding,” Peter said. “Or, I guess, you like wearing sunglasses, so you could just keep them.”

“You got balls, kid. I’ll give you that,” Tony commented cryptically. “Jarvis and I took bets on whether you’d actually go through with it.”

“Oh yeah? Who won?”

“I did, obviously,” Tony said. “Jarvis seemed to think you were a goodie-two-shoes who didn’t have the guts to make a bold move like that.”

“I did not say that in so many words,” Jarvis interjected.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I admittedly didn’t think anything that different. I figured you might get a second drink, maybe pay for some extra whipped cream.”

Peter ducked his head. He had done that too.

“I’m impressed.”

Peter felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Thank goodness Tony wasn’t mad. “Thank you, sir. For the coffee, and for the um, the other stuff.”

Tony shrugged. “Anytime. Just do me a favour, yeah?”

“What?” Anything.

“Don’t call your thousand-calorie monstrosity coffee. It’s a glorified milkshake.”

Peter grinned. “It’s delicious. Wanna try some?”

Tony licked his lips. “Maybe next time.”

Before he could stop himself, Peter blurted, “Yeah, but I don’t know if there will be a next time. I thought being your assistant meant I wouldn’t be getting coffee anymore, so…”

Tony inclined his head. “You really wouldn’t do it if I asked you again? Even if I said please?”

Peter deliberated. He should’ve said no. Absolutely not. But Tony did make a good case. Would he say no to him? Probably fucking not. “Well,” Peter hesitated. “Maybe like a few times. I don’t want to do it all the time. I mean, and if I can get some extra treats, or something. I don’t know. We could always both go.”

Tony smirked. “You’ve given me so much to think about. Wow.”

That was the end of the conversation, apparently. Peter obsessed over it for the rest of the work day, and then he obsessed over it some more when he was putting his travel mug in the kitchen cupboard in his apartment, and when he was fiddling with the sunglasses case while he watched a lecture video for his class. Then when he was eating breakfast in the form of leftovers from lunch with Tony from two days before.

Tony Stark was going to be the death of him. 

* * *

Tony had specifically told him that the project for his press conference in Germany took priority over everything, and that he was trusting Peter to get the rest of the job done, because, _“You’re smarter than any other intern I’ve had before, kid. I don’t think this’ll be a challenge for you.”_

And it wasn’t a challenge for Peter. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the fact that Peter had completely forgotten about this project and had left it on the sidelines to work on another car—Tony let Peter tinker around with his cars, as long as he didn’t blow anything up and left the fun stuff for last after completing everything else. 

Peter had _freaked out_ when Tony called him and asked whether it was ready for Germany yet. And so Peter had lied for the first time to Tony Stark, assuring him that he had finished and was just wrapping things up. 

And that was how he ended up rushing around the lab at six in the morning, trying to put everything together before Tony could find out his fib. “Don’t tell anyone,” he threatened Jarvis as he cleaned up a spill, cursing himself for knocking over his Red Bull because it was taking up precious time, and he didn’t have a lot left. “Please. He’s going to kick my ass.”

“Why would I kick your ass?”

“Umm.” Peter froze. “For um, for…for coming in early. I probably should’ve asked, you know. It’s your place and all, and I wouldn’t want to be coming and going at inappropriate times. After all, that’s sort of what got me into trouble with you in the first place. Heh.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Peter. I don’t like liars. Wanna try it again?”

Peter could only stare at the floor. 

“I promise I won’t kick your ass,” Tony added. “I might spank it, but never kick.”

Peter moved his head so quickly he almost broke his neck. “W-what?”

Tony crossed his arms. “So, spill it. What could you have possibly done that would warrant a spanking?”

Peter knew his face must’ve been an embarrassing shade of red. Was Tony serious? Was that the price he would have to pay for messing up his work, for being forgetful? Honestly, it seemed like Tony was doing him a favour rather than punishing him. Being put over Mr. Stark’s knee? Bending over one of those ridiculously low worktables with his pants around his ankles...Even if his pants were on, if he was covered… Peter could only imagine what it would be like to be so exposed and vulnerable for Tony Stark. It was practically incentive to mess up every day of his life.

“I’m losing my patience,” Tony warned.

Peter panicked. “I’m—” He gulped, then took a deep breath to steady himself before trying again. “I forgot to do the thing you told me to for your Germany conference. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just—” 

“I thought you told me it was done.”

“I…” Peter stared helplessly, shoulders sagging. “I’m going to get it done. Right now.”

“And that’s why you’re here early?” 

“Yessir.” Peter gulped again. 

Tony appraised him for a few more seconds, eyes narrowed, then sighed. “Scoot over, let me help.” 

Peter started. “Oh gosh, no, it’s okay, I promise I can get it done. I’m sure you have more important things to do—”

“I said scoot over, kid.” Tony came over and flicked a holographic screen over, not even sparing Peter a second glance. “You won’t be able to finish it all on your own. Let me help.”

Peter inched closer timidly. “Thanks.” 

Tony hummed in response. 

They worked in silence for a few minutes, Peter quietly handing over what Tony gestured for, until Tony broke the silence with his next words. 

“I don’t want you to lie to me again, kid.” His brow furrowed as he worked. “I hired you so that you can help me in the lab, not so you can try and hide any mistakes. Mistakes happen, and unless you blow up one of my cars, I won’t be upset with you.”

“Yessir. It won’t happen again,” Peter promised. 

“I know.” Tony gestured for a pencil, and Peter obeyed, handing it over to him without a word. “If you do, your ass won’t be feeling too good.”

Peter’s mouth went dry, and he had to close his eyes to urge away the image that popped into his mind, which, of course, only reinforced it even more, and _shit,_ he should not be getting hard. “I’m—I’m just gonna go to the washroom for a second.” He didn’t even wait for Tony to acknowledge his words, just scrambling away. 

* * *

There was a bathroom directly attached to the lab, and Peter deliberated skipping that one and using one he’d seen off the hallway near the living room, but it would have been weird to do so. Suspicious.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. From his vantage point, he could see his own flushed face in the mirror staring back at him. How embarrassing. Had Tony seen his reaction? Had he guessed what it meant? Peter knew without a doubt that Tony wasn’t dumb or oblivious, but maybe with a little luck, his hasty departure to the bathroom only looked like an emotional response to being reprimanded, not a physical one to being threatened with a spank. The thought of Tony getting anywhere close to his ass had him aching in his pants.

He’d fantasized about Tony and his body countless times in his young life, but it was a whole other thing to be face-to-face with the man himself. Hearing actual, real spoken words in that voice of his…

Would Tony actually follow through on his promise to spank him if he messed up again?

Peter bit his lip. His thoughts were running away from him and making his problem worse, not better. Oh, he was fully hard now. It wasn’t going to be willed away either unless he spent an hour in there meditating. 

There was only one option. 

Peter unbuttoned his pants quickly, racing to deal with the zipper. He reached into his boxers and pulled his dick out. He bit his lip harder at the sensation. The relief.

He gripped the edge of the sink while he jerked himself off, not daring to look at his reflection. He did not need to be reminded of how much of a mess he was. 

What would Tony do to him if he knew what he was up to? What if Tony came in because he suspected? Would he be angry? Would he spank him for daring to touch himself during work hours? Peter could imagine it as if it had already happened—Tony barging in and chastising him for not asking permission, o, even better, taking over. _You obviously don’t know what you’re doing. Let Daddy handle this for you. I’ll do it better._

Peter picked up speed, curling his fingers just so around the head. He was leaking so much precome he was almost too slick. He needed a little extra friction. 

_Mr. Stark, please. Help me. I need you to make me feel good. I’ll do anything. Please._

“Oh God,” he breathed. _Oh Mr. Stark._

He angled his hips over the sink just in time to make sure his come went down the drain and not on the floor. All evidence needed to be dealt with. No way was he missing a spot and letting Tony find that. _Maybe he’ll make me lick it up._

Peter’s grip on the sink tightened to the point where his fingers ached. He had to shake them out when he was finally done. He could only hope he hadn’t accidentally let a whimper or a moan slip out of his mouth. 

He put himself back away and did a full scan of the bathroom to make sure he had been thorough with evidence disposal. He washed his hands twice, and washed his face too, in an attempt to even out the pink of his skin tone.

Peter waited a moment, catching his breath, and then he opened the door. 

Tony’s back was to him, and he seemed engrossed by the task at hand. That was one thing in Peter’s favour; when Tony worked, he really did get into the zone and sometimes didn’t hear or notice the other things going on around him.

Peter took his place beside Tony, sparing him a careful glance to gauge his expression.

“Welcome back.” Tony smirked without even looking in his direction.

“Thanks,” Peter managed. “Did you miss me?”

 _Did you seriously just…?_ Peter could’ve kicked himself.

“Oh yeah,” Tony mused. “I nearly didn’t make it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Tony finally met his eyes. 

Peter couldn’t not notice the way Tony’s gaze flickered down and then back up. _Shit. He knows._

Tony stared at him for a moment, lips quirking up in amusement as they often did. “I won’t ask if you missed me because I already know the answer.”

Peter had no good comeback for that. Unless dropping to his knees counted? He figured he better not.

“Anyway.” Tony turned away. “Playtime’s over, kid. Let’s get back to work.”

“Yes. Okay, tell me what you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kudos and wonderful comments on the story so far. We really appreciate them because they motivate us to write more! xx


	5. Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter tries something new with Tony.

Peter had a problem. 

A serious, concerning problem. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened at the lab with Tony. The quippy little suggestions and remarks they exchanged that hinted at something _more._ The way Tony _knew_ exactly what had happened, without Peter even having to tell him. The way Peter had jerked off in Tony’s bathroom. 

What was wrong with him?

“Kid, are you just going to dissociate all day or actually help me out?”

Peter pulled himself out of his thoughts, gritting his teeth. _Get your shit together, Peter._ “Sorry.” He hastily moved over to Tony’s side, shivering when the man’s elbow brushed against his. Stupid. He was acting like a little schoolboy with a crush. “What do you need?”

Tony gestured wordlessly for the wrench, and Peter handed it over. They worked in silence for a while, Tony giving noncommittal grunts and nods in response to Peter’s occasional suggestions. They were deep into their work when Tony’s phone rang. 

Peter stared, expecting the man to pick up, but Tony didn’t even seem to notice. His eyes were focused on the scraps of metal in front of him, so Peter hesitantly plucked Tony’s phone out of the man’s back pocket and handed it to him.

“Hm? Oh.” Tony frowned, staring at the Caller ID, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I gotta take this. Finish the rest, kid. You know what to do.” Without even giving Peter a second glance, he left the lab.

Once Peter was alone, he had time to consider if he had gone too far by reaching into Tony’s pocket to grab his phone. The man hadn’t seemed to mind, but he was distracted. Maybe Tony would give him shit when he returned. Or maybe Tony would be glad Peter had done it and recognize that he was a useful assistant. Maybe Tony wouldn’t really even care at all. 

Peter wanted to know who was calling Tony and why he had to take the call. Important business? A friend? Peter had spoken to Tony on the phone before, but it was always professional, Tony asking him to come in early or warning him about what their day was going to look like. He fantasized about what it would be like to get a call from Tony that didn’t have to do with work, what it would be like to call Tony just to talk about nothing.

Peter knew if he wasn’t careful with the pining, he was going to get hurt—emotionally and academically. If Tony considered him unprofessional or if he was uncomfortable with his behaviour, Peter would be toast. Tony had the potential to make sure that he not only didn’t get credit for the internship but that he got expelled, or maybe even blacklisted from showing his face at any company in New York. Fuck, why did he had to jack off in the bathroom? That was the real issue at hand here, not taking Tony’s phone out of his pocket. He was on thin ice. Especially because he was almost 100 percent certain that Tony knew what he’d done. Any misstep now could be the last strike.

But Tony hadn’t mentioned it, and he didn’t seem any bitchier than normal. That was the problem. Tony’s attitude gave Peter hope that Tony was not only indifferent to his afternoon activity but interested. After all, why would he make all those innuendos about bending over desks and spanking him? Why would he smirk about it? Peter didn’t think he could be _that_ delusional to misread the situation so severely. He was a scientist, though, and scientists liked to experiment and prove their theories.

Peter would have to find a way to test his theory that Tony wasn’t just joking about the spanking and the suggestive remarks. 

So, he did. 

He did something that he hadn’t even _considered_ doing before. 

He messed up on purpose.

Which, really, was ridiculous, because he knew that _Tony_ knew that there was no way he could fuck up what they were working on. Peter was smart enough to not make a mistake like that, and he also knew that he was playing with fire here—what if Tony thought he wasn’t responsible or mature enough to keep working in the lab with him? 

But it was too late to second guess himself, because he’d already gone ahead and done it. So now, he was just staring into space when Tony returned from his phone call, making him jump. 

Tony chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “What’re you so jumpy for, huh?” His smile faded when he saw the broken parts of their project and he frowned. 

Peter’s heart leapt into his throat and _shit,_ this was a bad idea, he shouldn’t have done it, why was he _so fucking stupid?_

“Pete? What the hell happened?” Tony sounded annoyed.

Peter hesitated, then said honestly, “I messed up, Sir.”

“You messed up,” Tony echoed, looking dumbfounded, then turned an appraising look on Peter. There was a glimmer of realization in his eyes, because if Peter was smart, Tony was smarter—he’d figured out what Peter had done in less than a minute. “Well. That’s not acceptable, is it?”

“No,” Peter agreed, mouth going dry. He jutted his chin out in a motion that he knew would get under Tony’s skin, just to put the cherry on the top, and said, “I guess you’ll have to spank me now, won’t you? Isn’t that what you said you’d do, Mr. Stark?”

“I guess I will. I am a man of my word, after all.” There was a small moment of hesitation that Peter barely caught, but thankfully they brushed past it. “Bend over the table. Now.”

Peter nearly tripped over himself in his haste to obey. There was no mistaking the dominant tone in Tony’s voice. 

“Still think the tables are too low?” Tony whispered once Peter was faced down.

Peter answered with a whimper. Was it going to hurt? Should he pull his pants down, his boxers? He had never done anything like this before, and he had been so caught up with thinking about Tony saying no, he realized he had no fucking clue what to do now that the man had said yes.

“You get ten,” Tony explained. “Ten for each piece our project is in because of your clumsiness. I’d say that’s more than fair.”

Peter nodded jerkily.

“Words, Peter, please.”

“Yes. It’s fair.”

“That’s what I thought,” Tony replied. “Let’s begin.”

The first one was scariest because Peter didn’t know how hard Tony was going to hit him, but then it was time for the second one, and his pants really softened the blow. He was sure it would have hurt on bare skin, but he didn’t think it would have been painful. Tony knew what he was doing, evidently.

“Next one’s three,” Tony said. “Okay?”

“Y-yes.”

Peter’s cheeks heated at the telltale ache between his legs after the fifth smack. He ground himself into the table, seeking more friction. He was so close to getting off; he could feel it. Tony delivered the sixth and seventh hits, and each one made his hips jerk reflexively against the table. His ass was starting to tingle from Tony’s hits, and the strain of his dick against his pants when he couldn’t move much was overwhelming his senses. Never mind the fact that it was Tony Stark doing this to him, playing right into his tricks. Sure, it was a punishment, but was it really? Because it felt amazing.

“You’ll feel this tomorrow, you know.” Tony sounded nonchalant, far more composed than him. “But I guess that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? I mean, you knew the consequences of messing up. On purpose, to top it off.”

“I—” Peter made a small noise at the words. 

“What, you think I wouldn’t notice?” Tony scoffed, and the sound of him rolling up his sleeves practically made Peter’s eyes roll into the back of his head because _fuck._ “You think I wouldn’t have known that you did this to provoke a response from me? Well, sweetcheeks, you’re getting what you wanted. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Peter panted, hips twitching even as alarm bells began to ring in his head—not at Tony’s words or his actions, but rather at the fact that he was acting this way. God, he should be ashamed of himself.

“Three more, Pete. Almost done.”

Peter groaned and didn’t have enough energy to apologize for it. Letting that noise escape opened the floodgates, and he began to rut shamelessly against the table. In the next breath, he was begging. “Please, Mr. Stark. Please.”

Tony’s hand came down on his ass harder than any of the nine hits before it, and this one wasn’t on either cheek. Tony targeted the exact centre of his ass. Right over the hole.

“Fuckkk,” Peter whined as he came in his boxers. He was on top of the world until he was done twitching pathetically and remembered he was in front of Mr. Stark and at his mercy. “Oh, no, Mr. Stark...I’m so sorry. I—”

Peter scrambled off the table and grabbed the nearest thing to him to cover the wet spot on his pants. This was supposed to have been a punishment not an opportunity for him to use Tony to get off. To blow his load at work (for the second time).

Tony was just staring at him. He cleared his throat. “You did a good job, kid.”

Thank fuck. So he wasn’t mad. Peter barrelled ahead. “I’m so sorry about the project. I didn’t mean to ruin it, well, heh. I just...sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“I forgive you,” Tony said softly. “You accepted your punishment well. How can I stay mad?”

Peter nodded and looked down. That view afforded him the nice sight of Tony’s bulge, so he flickered his eyes to Tony’s before settling them on the floor.

“You can have a change of clothes and go home,” Tony suggested, “or you can stay and continue the workday. The choice is yours. Of course if you stay, I’ll expect you to be on your best behaviour.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, and his uncontrollable eyes settled on Tony’s dick again. “I sort of have another idea, Sir.”

“What’s that?” Tony knitted his brows.

Peter swallowed hard and he suggested as nonchalantly as he could, “I could…” His eyes flicked down to the tent in Tony’s pants again and when he regained his composure he was more breathless than before. “I could make you feel good. Sir.”

“And how do you suggest doing that?” Tony raised an eyebrow now, his expression not giving anything away.

Peter pushed on. “Like this.” He dropped to his knees, praying that he’d made the right choice, that he wasn’t about to convince Tony there and then that he deserved to be fired—or worse, _sued._ ‘Improper conduct’—he could already envision the lawsuit. 

Thankfully, Tony clearly had other plans. Peter heard the hitch in his breath, and there was a moment of silence before the man gently placed a hand on his head, fingers curling just enough to scratch lightly at his scalp. “That’s what you want to do?”

“If—” Peter broke off with a swallow. “If that’s what you want too.” _Please say yes. Please._ His mouth was watering already. 

Another moment of hesitation, and then— “Go on.”

Peter immediately leapt into action. He reached forward to undo Tony’s belt, fumbling a bit until he managed to pull it loose. Then, his hands moved down to his zipper, but a command from Tony stopped him in his tracks. 

“Not with your hands.” He sounded a bit strained, and that was how Peter knew there would be no lawsuit coming his way. Tony was just as desperate for this as he was.

He stopped, hesitating, frowning at the order. No hands? What—

He must’ve seemed confused, because Tony gently pulled his head up with his grip on Peter’s hair so that they could meet eye contact and smiled. “You’re a smart boy, aren’t you? Figure it out.”

Peter obediently tucked his hands behind his back, clasping his right hand with his left so he wouldn’t forget to keep them there, and stared, feeling utterly and completely stupid. Then, it hit him. 

He leaned forward, glancing at Tony to make sure he was on the right track, and when he received a small nod, he let his eyes flick back down to the zipper. He mouthed at it, trying to grab it with his teeth so he could pull it down.

It took him a few moments to succeed, and he could feel Tony’s gaze on him, never leaving him, never wavering. He took the time to relish the feeling of triumph and satisfaction, and sat back on his heels to let the saliva in his mouth pool up so that he’d be wet and sloppy when he finally began to suck Tony off. 

The lingering taste of the metal zipper was immediately chased away when he took Tony’s cock into his mouth—god, he was _big;_ he was going to be choking on it and loving every second of it—and began to suck.

It was difficult to take Tony all the way back to his throat, and he knew he had to make up for that somehow. Was he allowed to use his hand to grip the part of Tony’s cock that was left neglected because of his small mouth? Or had Tony just meant no hands for unzipping? Peter didn’t want to do anything to displease him.

He kept his hands to himself and did his best to get Tony off with his lips and tongue. It was a mess, and he was drooling everywhere as he fucked his own face on Tony’s cock. 

Peter wanted to hear he was doing a good job, but he figured if Tony wasn’t enjoying it, he would’ve been pushed off by now. Tony also wouldn’t still be hard, and Peter wouldn’t be able to taste the steady amount of precome that was flooding his mouth, and leaving his mouth through the gaps between his lips and Tony’s cock every time he tried to breathe.

“Fuck,” Tony sighed. “Your mouth is so perfect.”

Peter’s heart soared at the praise. It was just what he wanted. All he wanted. 

He sucked harder and swirled his tongue around Tony’s cock even more enthusiastically. Now that he was used to having a dick in his mouth, it was a little bit easier to try and breathe and suck at the same time. He even managed to take Tony an inch more into his mouth.

Both of Tony’s hands were threading through his hair, tugging slightly but not pulling. It was soothing and kept him calm. Peter was getting lost inside his head and barely felt like he was there anymore. It was like his body was on autopilot while he mindlessly pleasured Tony. The only thing keeping him grounded from disappearing completely was Tony’s delicate touch and how ridiculously hard he was in his already wet boxers. 

“Pete,” Tony gasped. “O-oh, yeah. Just like that. Just like that.” His voice was breathy, and Peter didn’t miss how he’d tripped over his words a bit, letting out a grunt like he just couldn’t hold it back.

Peter’s jaw was starting to ache and his lips were going numb from all of the friction. He needed Tony to come. He felt like he could’ve kept going and going until he achieved that, and it had nothing to do with the discomfort of his own mouth. Actually it felt amazing in a strange sort of way. No, Peter needed Tony to come, so he would know he’d done well. Completely earned Tony’s forgiveness. He wanted to make the man happy enough to keep him around.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Tony warned.

Peter’s eyes had been closed up until that point, but Tony’s voice brought him out of his trance. He wanted to be aware of Tony’s every expression while he climaxed. 

Tony’s grip on his head changed, becoming firmer as he held him in place. He drove his cock just a bit deeper into Peter’s mouth, right up until the point he could take. As if he could read Peter’s mind and know his limit.

Peter could feel Tony’s come hitting the back of his throat, Tony’s hands gripping his hair, his cock twitching on his tongue. He watched Tony throw his head back, his jaw flexing before finally going lax. More importantly, he could hear his name on Tony’s lips. It was everything. 

After a moment, Tony stroked the side of Peter’s cheeks, encouraging him to loosen up a bit, and once Peter let his mouth slacken, Tony pulled out.

Peter was quick to swallow a lot of it, but he missed some since there was so much and since his numb lips weren’t cooperating with him.

Tony knelt down on the floor beside him since he wasn’t moving. “Look at you.” He used the pad of his thumb and ran it across Peter’s swollen mouth. 

“Good?” Peter questioned. _Was it good? Was I good?_

“Good?” Tony frowned. “You were incredible.”

Peter nodded contentedly. For some reason he felt exhausted. He was unable to stop himself from swaying forward, but he managed to get control over himself before he put his head to Tony’s chest. If the man hadn’t wanted him to use hands to get him off, he probably didn’t want him slobbering all over his shirt or trying to hug him or something. Although, Peter would have argued that he was entitled to do it since the man’s cock had just been in his mouth.

Tony smiled hard enough for it to reach his eyes. He gently pressed his thumb into Peter’s mouth, and Peter let him, taking it in to run his tongue over it. “You okay, honey?” the man murmured.

Peter’s heart did a little skip at the pet name. Honey. That was cute. “Yeah,” he said softly.

Tony hummed, looking at him thoughtfully. Then, he pulled his finger out from between Peter’s lips and stood up, reaching his hand down to help Peter to his feet. “C’mere,” he said with a chuckle when Peter stumbled a bit from being on his knees for so long. “We’ll just stay here until your knees feel better. You did so good, honey.”

Peter let himself be guided over to the couch they had in the workshop, but he hesitated before sitting down. How did Tony want him? The man made up his mind for him and sat down, then gestured for Peter to do so.

“Lie down,” Tony instructed.

Peter was more than content to obey. Lying down on the obscenely comfortable couch with his head in Tony’s lap, a much softer echo of the position he’d been in only minutes ago. 

Tony carded his fingers through his hair, murmuring gently and sweetly enough that it nearly put him to sleep. 

Eventually, when so much time had passed that Peter wasn’t even sure _how much_ had passed, Tony roused him from his half-drowsy state, kindly telling him that he could go home if he wanted to. 

Peter would have preferred to sleep using Tony as a pillow for the rest of his life, but he supposed it made sense. He had to go home sometime, but he couldn’t help but feel disappointed as he stared up at Mr. Stark’s face. In all honesty, he’d actually been expecting, or at least hoping, that the man would invite him to stay overnight, or at least for dinner...at least. He figured it was too good to be true, though. Maybe another time. Or, maybe never again. He couldn’t believe Tony would leave it at that as much as self-deprecation came easy to him. Tony had called him honey, said he was incredible. There had to be a future for them. Peter would just have to be patient.

“Let me go get some clothes for you to wear home,” Tony suggested.

“S-sure.” Peter managed to sit up on the couch and stay upright despite how much he wanted to lie back down and melt into the warmth Tony was leaving behind.

He changed quickly in the lab’s bathroom, stuffing his soiled clothing into his backpack, then he awkwardly emerged back to Tony, wearing the man’s own clothes. With the sunglasses Tony had paid for, the shirt, the boxers, and the pants, Peter almost had a complete outfit of Tony’s. He just needed some shoes. Again, he hoped it might happen in the future.

Peter ducked his head when Tony ran a hand through his hair one last time, searching his face—though Peter wasn’t sure what for—before he left.

When he arrived home, he went straight to his bedroom to crash, feeling more relaxed and pleased than he had in months, and it was all because he knew that he and Tony had managed to reach a new point in their relationship, a point he’d been striving to reach for what felt like centuries. He wasn’t sure what the future held for him and Tony, but he had a feeling it was something good, and something better than he’d ever expected to get. Whatever it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you lovely readers enjoyed this!! We did tell you to buckle up and take some antacids for increased spiciness... ;) We hope you took the advice hehe. xx


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